It Must Be Love
by Cutthroat Pixie
Summary: An assortment of drabbles and short stories focusing on Spain and Romano.
1. Guerra

Title: Guerra  
Pairing: Spain/Romano  
Rating: PG

* * *

It was a common occurrence, humans warring over the ability to rule a country. There were so many in these times who could stake a claim at one or two thrones, after all.

Spain would not have minded sharing a ruler with France, as was obvious in the way he so boldly fought alongside his people, against the many other European nations who opposed the unification.

When all was said and done, however, the war was lost. Spain watched as his dear Romano was torn away from him, returned to Austria's house, and he'd never regretted a war so much.


	2. Rojo

Title: Rojo  
Pairing: Spain/Romano  
Rating: PG-13

* * *

It's Spain's favourite colour, the vibrant shade of red that adorns his flag and lets him know his tomatoes are ripe and ready to be picked, the colour of _amor_.

The colour Romano's cheeks give off hints of when he's embarrassed, or angry, or perhaps painfully aroused.

Red is life and love and everything in between, for Spain. So many happy (and some sad) memories are tinted with that beautiful, bright colour.

He must admit, though, it is not a colour he wants to see flowing down Romano's skin, not unless it is following after a possessive nip of teeth.


	3. Forward

Title: Forward  
Pairing: Spain/Romano  
Rating: PG-13

* * *

Romano hated going to parties with Spain. Romano didn't much care for socialising, while Spain cared for it quite a bit, so the former typically ended up getting drunk in some corner while the latter chattered on happily with the other party guests.

On this particular evening, Romano was having none of this whole being ignored business, so he stomped over to Spain to tell him so, fully intending to rip him a new one for dragging him to this stupid party, but what he ended up saying was, "Damnit, you asshole, get over here so I can kiss you."


	4. Forgotten

Title: Forgotten  
Pairing: Spain/Romano  
Rating: PG

* * *

Romano would never, ever, under threat of death and torture and never getting to eat another tomato again (well, possibly that one), admit that he was more than a little hurt when he thought Spain had forgotten to visit him. He told himself he didn't want to see that bastard anyway, that he had better things to do, that he was glad he didn't have to waste time in the other's company, all the while rubbing at his stinging eyes.

When Spain did show up, all smiles and apologies, Romano unsuccessfully disguised his tears with a string of half-assed insults.


	5. Victory

Title: Victory  
Pairing: Spain/Romano  
Rating: G

* * *

"Te quiero," Spain always said. Te quiero, ti amo, I love you. Romano would just grumble, a slight blush on his face, and push the older nation away, thinking the words a joke. That bastard was always trying to get to him in one way or another, why would this be any different?

It sent a tingle up Romano's spine every time and the burning in his face matched another fire in his chest. He wasn't some stupid romantic like his little brother, however, and he'd not let that idiot Spain know he'd had a small victory with his words.


	6. Blind

Title: Blind  
Pairing: Spain/Romano  
Rating: G

* * *

For somebody who had spent so much time in the company of the so-called 'country of passion', Romano was fairly useless when it came to romance. Sure, he could chat it up with pretty girls, but that was the extent of his skills.

It was a common misconception, however, that he was entirely to blame when it came to the rough edges around his and Spain's relationship. While he was entirely unromantic, at least he wasn't completely clueless, as the other country was. Romano was as obvious with his feelings as he knew how to be, but Spain saw nothing.


	7. White Wedding

Title: White Wedding  
Pairing: Spain/Romano  
Rating: G

* * *

Spain never would have imagined that after the multiple proposals and propositions he'd made to Romano, that he would one day actually get a positive response. Sure, it wasn't really a yes or anything, more a list of demands, but that was just as good in Spain's mind.

It couldn't be a big thing, Romano would complain too much, and it wasn't like Romano would start treating him any differently, but that didn't stop Spain from running around cheerfully at the next World Meeting, announcing through the halls his intentions to marry the older Italian brother.

Romano so didn't approve.


	8. Tap Dat Ass

Title: Tap Dat Ass  
Pairing: Spain/Romano  
Rating: PG-13

* * *

Romano sits at Spain's kitchen table, yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes (it was before noon, he really couldn't be blamed for being so tired). His stupid host is off in his pantry, whistling some damned annoying tune as he gathers up some food for breakfast.

The soft tune continues, and before he knows it, Romano is drifting off to sleep, chin in his hand. The smell of cooking eggs awakes him moments later, and what he sees when he opens his eyes drives any thoughts of sleep from his mind entirely.

Spain is standing by his stove, spatula in hand, wearing nothing but a pair of tight fitting boxer-shorts and..., "Damnit you bastard, stop flaunting your perfect ass this early in the morning."

Romano flushes. Spain laughs.

The laughter cuts short seconds later when Spain's spatula flies out of his hand and he's pressed against the kitchen counter.


	9. Accumulation

Title: Accumulation  
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Romano  
Rating: K+  
Note: I haven't posted anything on this drabble collection in foreverrr, but I have a bunch of shit I've been writing on Tumblr that needs to go somewhere! Also, I am taking drabble requests in my ask on Tumblr, it's cutthroatpixie if anyone wants anything :)

* * *

Romano hates cleaning. If there's a gross mess in the kitchen and the dishes are accumulating in the sink, sure, he'll clean it up, because Romano isn't fucking disgusting and he doesn't want to attract flies. But right now he is not doing entirely necessary cleaning, he is helping Spain clean out the guest bedroom in his house they've been using for years as a catch all for all the shit they don't know what to do with.

When Spain takes down the older paintings on his walls to replace them with new ones, they go in the room. When Romano leaves his clothes at Spain's house for so long he realises he hasn't actually worn the things in years, but eh, Spain got him that tie and he doesn't like it when Spain whines about him throwing out gifts, those go in the room too. Romano is pretty sure the closet still contains all the broken vases and brooms and plates he used to stow away when he was younger in order to try and avoid getting in trouble. Romano knows there are also boxes upon boxes of childish drawings (that Spain totally stole, because like Romano would ever give him that shit) and paintings with crinkled, worn pages and faded colours.

There's many, many other things, all useless and covered in dust, and when Spain decided he should probably at least attempt to clean it all out, he somehow managed to talk Romano into it (because Spain plays dirty and Romano has been promised all the pizza he can eat once they're through).

"Romano!" Spain cries out, his voice drowned out by the sound of a pile of boxes falling over on him. "Ahhh, Roma, help!"

"…Fucking hell, we're never going to get this done."


	10. Fastidious

Title: Fastidious  
Pairing/Characters: Chibi!Fem!Romano, Spain, Netherlands, Male!Belgium  
Rating: K  
Note: We were talking on Tumblr about tea parties and tiny Femano and all the boys throwing the tea parties for her and yeah. Enjoy XD

* * *

Romano looked at the spread in front of her, eyeing it critically. The freshly cleaned green teacups atop their white saucers were all placed around the table on stark white doilies and the matching teapot contained not actual tea, but hot chocolate, because Romano only liked her tea cold and it was the middle of winter. The tablecloth, her favourite shade of red, had been hand-washed and pressed by Spain (who didn't complain about it at all, as Romano may have).

Next to the teapot sat a vase that perfectly matched the tea set, filled with fragrant yellow flowers. A lacy green ribbon, similar to the one Belgium had placed in Romano's hair, was wrapped around the vase and tied in a perfect bow. Belgium had also spent the day making appelbeignets, and he'd carefully arranged them all on a platter, along with churros Spain had made to go along with the hot chocolate.

Spain, Netherlands, and Belgium waited for Romano to nod her approval and take a seat before they also sat down for their tea party, all decked out in the formal wear Romano had set out for them.

Romano picked up a churro and wrinkled her nose, sending Spain a dirty look. "You didn't put enough cinnamon on these, stupid."


	11. Nail Polish

Title: Nail Polish  
Pairing/Characters: Fem!Spain/Fem!Romano  
Rating: T

* * *

Lovina was never letting Antonia have a party ever again. Lovina was never letting her have Francis and Gilbert over ever again, never letting them drink all the wine in their fridge ever again, never, _ever_ letting her invite all their neighbours who they didn't even fucking know over again. Lovina was also never letting Antonia talk Lovina into letting her do all these things and then give her a manipedi at 3 am when all the strangers and friends had passed out all around the house.

"I'm sorry, Lovi," Antonia whispered, her voice a little raspy from her whole running through the neighbourhood screaming about there being a party stint. She scrubbed briskly at their tile floor, chips of green and red and yellow nail polish flying up with every motion.

Lovina snorted and dumped more nail polish remover on the more stubborn bits of polish. "This shit is expensive, you know." Some water, another scrub brush, and a few rags kept the polish from redrying on the floor and Lovina followed close behind Antonia, making sure every bit of foreign colour was removed from their, also very expensive, kitchen floor. "It's supposed to stay on your nails, not the floor."

"I know." Antonia reached up and scraped a nail against Lovina's cheek. "The red looks so nice on you, we'll have to try again with that one later."

Lovina threw one of the rags at Antonia's face. "Just get back to work, stupid."


	12. Personal Shopper

Title: Personal Shopper  
Pairing/Characters: Fem!Spain/Romano  
Rating: K+

* * *

Romano's hands ran over a bright yellow, silky dress as he waited for Spain to come out of the dressing room wearing her fifth dress that day. The first had been a pale green and, ignoring the fact that the colour was atrocious, the cut had been just awful. Spain was a petite woman with a nice figure and a big personality, green tents were definitely no good for her to be wearing. The next had been a better cut, but she'd chosen a sheer white that time and just. No.

The third had been beige, and while Romano definitely didn't mind when she wore khaki dress pants or other shades of tan and brown, Romano hated beige. Enough said. The fifth one was actually almost perfect— Spain looked best in red, always had, the fabric hung off her body in all the right ways, the hem hit just above her knee, and the way the waist pulled in was just perfect, but there was a disgusting, obvious seam right across her ass and that wouldn't do at all.

"Spain?" he asked after ten minutes of waiting for her to change into the next dress. "Did you fall asleep, how long does it take to dress yourself?"Spain giggled and peeked her head out. "This one isn't going to work either," she said, giving him a sheepish look. He was about to ask why, but then she leaned out just a bit too far and he noticed an undone zipper and a hint of a breast peaking out over the fabric.

"Spain," he hissed, jumping up quickly and making sure nobody saw. "Just take it off, try this one."

"Yellow?" she asked. Romano usually picked red for her.

"No weird ass seams on this one," he replied with a shrug. "And everything you have is red."

"Whose fault is that?" Spain winked when Romano turned a faint pink and went back inside the dressing room, though Romano was already certain this was the dress they'd be leaving with.


	13. Repainting

Title: Repainting  
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Fem!Romano  
Rating: K+

* * *

Spain's lived in the same house, in the same part of his country, for far, far too long. The land surrounding the house hasn't always been the same— endless rolling fields and orchards have given way to ever-building cities and Spain is always glad to let them, because he is always glad to give his people whatever it is they need. A small field remains, and of course the house, though the years have taken their toll.

"This room is digusting," Romano tells Spain, her nose scrunching up in disgust when some paint peels off the ceiling and lands in her hair. "When was the last time you repainted?"

"It's not," Spain responds. Romano gives him a look and he responds with a sheepish grin. "This room hasn't been used in a long time. The rest of the house isn't this bad."

"Obviously, I fixed the rest of the house." Spain had stripped the walls of their old paint and Spain had rolled the new colours onto the walls, one by one, all over the house, but Romano had picked out those colours and Romano had also picked out the wine for their little painting parties, so of course Romano had really been the one to fix things.

Spain finishes smoothing out the walls, getting more paint chips in Romano's hair and she's glad Spain's boss had workers fix up all the old lead paint years ago, because a few pieces land in her wine too and she doesn't fancy dying of lead poisoning (again). "You're not taping the trim off straight enough," she says and Spain continues on in his crooked, ripped-tape lines. "Ugh, give it here."

Spain tosses the tape to her and Romano hands over her wine, kneeling down to fix Spain's failure of a tape job and do it properly. Once that is done and her wine is reclaimed, she begins barking out orders on how to properly pour the paint (a soft teal that reminds her of the oceans back home), how to properly roll it, how to properly apply the paint to the walls.

Spain doesn't listen, of course. Instead he picks up a paint brush and taps it gently against Romano's nose, grinning when she sputters and tries to wipe the paint off, only succeeding in spreading it around. "You fucker," she says, picking up another brush and sloshing paint onto his shirt.

The room doesn't get painted that day.


	14. Lipstick

Title: Lipstick  
Pairing/Characters: Fem!Spain/Romano  
Rating: T

* * *

Spain awoke one morning, after a long evening of drinking and an even longer night of having bizarre, disjointed snippets of dream-like visions. One of the more pleasant dreams involved her and Romano swapping places and, though the dream had quickly morphed into cacophony of hazy red, when she got up the next morning her mind was filled with nothing but inspiration and brilliant ideas.

"Spain," Romano mumbled, rolling over and stealing her now vacated pillow. "It's fucking early, what are you doing?" He blinked an eye open when Spain didn't immediately respond, only to find her standing near the closet, in his boxers, tugging one of his undershirts over her very naked chest. "…Do I even want to know?"

"You do!" Spain responded, her hands now busy tugging Romano's trousers up over her hips. "Today I'm going to be Roma, and he's going to be me, okay?"

"Those are too long on you."

"I'll wear your nice slacks and your pink shirt— don't worry, I'll treat it nice— and you can wear any of my skirts you want!"

"You're not leaving the house like that."

"And I'll make cannoli and you can make lunch!"

"You're doing the buttons wrong."

Spain looked down and saw that she had indeed missed a button, just below the dip of her chest, and she quickly repaired her error before taking a look at herself in the mirror. Romano was right; the pants were a few inches too long, because Romano was more than a few inches taller than her (though her legs were long, at the very least). The shirt, custom-tailored to Romano's body, draped oddly over her chest and sides, and the shoulders were far broader than her own. Romano's favourite black shoes didn't fit her at all, so she had to opt for a pair of her own flat dress shoes, but Spain was okay with all of that.

She pulled her hair up and attempted to make one of her curls stand up like Romano's, though she couldn't quite achieve the right effect.

Romano just stared, too tired and confused to continue protesting. Until Spain tossed a red skirt in his direction, that is.

"I'm not wearing your clothes." Spain just grinned, eagerly waiting for him to join her in her insanity. "I want to sleep. Spain. _Sleep_."

Spain ignored him, instead handing him a matching set of green and white underwear. "No no Roma, you have to go along with it, you're me! I love wearing my clothes!"

"I. Ugh. Can I sleep if I do this? No pictures." Romano sat up begrudgingly and fit the bra over his chest, his fingers expertly doing the clasps up in the back. He scowled when he noticed Spain eyeing him excitedly, but he put on the rest of the ensemble as well, Spain's cream-coloured blouse tucked into her vibrant red pencil skirt, which fit snuggly over green panties and transparent pantyhose.

"Are you happy now?" he asked, thanking every god that had any chance of maybe possibly existing somewhere out in the universe that Spain's camera was nowhere in sight. "How do you even get into this thing? It's way too short, this is ridiculous."

"Aw, but you look so pretty." Spain sat on the bed, looking ridiculous in the too-big clothes of her boyfriend, and took Romano's chin in her hand. "Hold still, I have to finish the look."

Twenty minutes later, Romano's face was done up with brown eyeliner and rose-pink lipstick, and Spain had made another attempt at procuring herself a curl, this time with the help of some gel and hairspray.

"You look so stupid."

"Roma, it's not very nice to insult yourself."

"I look fucking stupid too, I don't even care."

Spain puffed her cheeks out in a pout that very much resembled Romano's own, though he would never say that to her face. "Well fuck you too, asshole," she said, the words rolling just as easily off her tongue as they did his, though they still sounded odd to Romano's ears.

Realising that maybe he wasn't just joining in with Spain's crazy antics, and that he probably was just as nuts as she was, Romano grinned and pinched one of Spain's cheeks. "Such cute mouths shouldn't say those mean words, you know."

Spain giggled, completely breaking character, and started undoing Romano's blouse. "Less talk, more getting naked."

"I have never said that to you ever, Spain."

Spain ran her hand over Romano's side, her fingers sneaking back behind him to undo the bra he had so carefully done up. "Well you should start doing it more often, yeah?"

Romano just rolled his eyes and kissed Spain, not even caring that he was the one smearing lipstick all over both their faces.


	15. Bonding Over Shoes

Title: Bonding Over Shoes  
Pairing/Characters: Fem!Spain/Romano  
Rating: K+

* * *

Antonia had initially met Lovino on the bus, while she was on her way to work and he was on his way to school. Being the talkative person she was Antonia had immediately struck up a conversation with him, and though she would later learn he was more than a little grumpy most of the time, he'd appeared to be in a good mood that day, had even complimented her shoes (a sleek pair of green heels, not her favourite, but she liked them well enough).

When Lovino got off at his stop, Antonia had been a little sad to realise he hadn't asked for her number, but then the next day, there they were on the bus together again. She hadn't noticed, not at first, because the person across from her was wearing some really, really hideous orange foam shoes that were covered in mud and she was wondering why somebody would do such a thing, but then a familar voice was saying, "Those are the ugliest fucking shoes I've ever seen in my life," and she looked up to find Lovino sitting down next to her.

Orange Shoe Woman looked a little offended, but Antonia didn't care. A couple weeks passed in that manner— Antonia would get on the bus each morning, Monday through Friday, rain or shine, and a few stops later, Lovino would join her. Lovino was cute and sweet in his own special way and a little shy, Antonia thought, especially after Lovino found at that Antonia was a few years older than him and had already graduated from university, but Antonia thought that just made him more cute.

She was all prepared to finally ask him out three weeks after their first meeting, but Lovino beat her to the punch. "Are you free later tonight?" he asked. The driver announced his stop just then and Lovino cursed under his breath, quickly pulling out a piece of paper and writing down his number for Antonia. "Call me if you are, I'll take you out."

Antonia waited for Lovino to get off the bus and immediately called the number he'd just given her. "Meet me at the mall at 6?" she asked when he picked up.

"I didn't mean call _now_," Lovino responded. "But sure. Why the mall?"

"You'll see," she responded. "See you tonight!" She blew a kiss and quickly hung up, wondering if maybe Lovino was blushing on the other end of the phone.

6:00 PM right on the dot found Antonia just barely getting on the bus to go to the mall, and 6:30 PM found her waiting outside the entrance, watching a very flustered looking Lovino run over to her.

"Sorry I'm late," he mumbled. "Stupid teacher held me up."

"Oh, it's okay, I haven't been waiting long." Or at all, considering she'd barely beat him there. "Let's go inside!"

Antonia looped her arm through Lovino's and quickly lead him through the mall, until she finally reached her destination.

"A shoe store?" Lovino asked, eyes flickering back and forth between all the shoes on display in the window. Antonia watched as he eyed them critically and she knew she'd planned a perfect first date.

"We're having a party at work," she explained, letting go of his arm in order to pick up a pair of purple and black suede pumps. "And I need a new pair of shoes. Help me pick one out?"

Lovino gave Antonia an odd look and she thought for a brief second that maybe it wasn't actually a good idea for a first date, but then Lovino sighed and took the pair of pumps out of her hands. "Well not these. Nothing purple."

Two hours, three pairs of heels, and a trip to get gelato later, Antonia was definitely patting herself on the back for a job well done.


	16. Talkative

Title: Talkative  
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Romano  
Rating: K+

* * *

"Romano, do you ever think about how right now there's probably loads of other couples out right now too, and there's only so many things you can do when you go out so maybe some of them are out drinking too,"

"Mhmm."

"And there's also only so many clothes, and we're wearing new ones, not really, really old ones like those jeans America gave me in the 70s,"

"…You still have those abominations?"

"And if we're wearing new ones, other people probably bought the same ones, maybe one or two bought all the same ones, because you buy things that go nice together,"

"Spain. Those jeans. Where are they?"

"In my closet!" Spain grins and grabs Romano's hand when he tries to rush off from the bar. "Anyway, you always pick out nice outfits and you can't be the only fashionable person in the world!"

"Sure feels like it sometimes."

"Oh, but you're not, somebody must have picked out the same outfits, since they go so nice together, and of course they'll wear them, because why would you buy clothes that didn't go nice together?"

"Indeed."

"And maybe they bought their boyfriend an outfit too, one that also goes nice together, and nice with theirs, just like you did."

"You're not my boyfriend, how old are we?"

"23 and 25." Spain winks and Romano rolls his eyes. "And I am. But Romano, if they bought the same outfit as you, because why wouldn't they, it's so nice! And they bought their boyfriend the same outfit as me, because it looks nice with yours, so it would look nice with theirs, since its the same outfit, that's my whole point—"

"You have a point?"

"I do! Romano! What if somewhere out there, there are two people, on a date—"

"This isn't a date, you getting drunk and babbling at me is not a date."

"On a date-like outing," Spain semi-corrects. "At a bar, and bars are not all that different from one another when you think about it, so maybe they're at a similar bar." He pauses and looks around, then continues. "But not this bar, nobody dressed like us is at this bar. Except us."

"Why would people dressed like us be at this bar?"

"Because," Spain says very, very loudly and a few other patrons spare him glances before going back to their own business. "Because, because, Romano. Somewhere in the world, there are two people wearing our same clothes! Doing the same things as us!"

"What."

"It's beautiful, really."

"Do I even want to know."

"You do! Because even if they're wearing the same clothes as us, and doing the same thing as us, at the exact same moment as us, they're not us!"

"Spain. No more."

"No no no, Romano! They're not us, even if they're like us in every single way, and that's beautiful because even if that were true, there's only one Romano."

"I'm pretty sure I've met other people named Romano."

"But there's only one you. Only one."

Romano just stares as Spain grins at him, cheeks tinted a drunken pink. "Uh huh."

"There's only one you, and only one me, and only one us together and Romano you just aren't getting it, it's so amazing."

Romano lifts his drink to his lips and sighs. "Shut up for two seconds, seriously, I am not drunk enough for you right now."


	17. Classroom Antics

Title: Classroom Antics  
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Romano, Belgium  
Rating: K+  
Note: Edmée = Belgium

* * *

Lovino sat in the back of the classroom, head dipping every now and then as he struggled to stay awake through his last lecture of the day. He was just about to give into the fact that he'd been up until 1 am writing a paper, and then until 3 am listening to Feliciano freak out about how he'd fallen asleep instead of writing his own paper, when a pencil jabbed into his ribcage.

"Ow!" he hissed, immediately snapping his mouth shut when the teacher looked in his direction. He opened it again to whisper a, "What the hell was that for, bastard?" when he thought the coast was clear, but apparently it wasn't.

"Vargas," the teacher said. "If you can't sit by Fernández without conversing instead of actually listening, then one of you needs to move."

Edmée, who was sitting near the front of the room (because she really was physically unable to sit by Lovino without chatting at him and writing him notes and trying to get him to gossip about how cute Antonio was), snickered and winked at him. "The only open seat is by me, sir."

The teacher rolled his eyes and gestured at Antonio. "Looks like you're moving, then."

"Sorry, Lovi," Antonio whispered, grabbing his things and moving to the empty seat by Edmée, who immediately started gabbing at Antonio in a hushed voice.

Lovino just rolled his eyes and rested his face in the palm of his hand, hoping their teacher would be too busy telling Edmée to stop asking Antonio how cute he thought Lovino was to notice that Lovino was sound asleep.


	18. Stops and Starts

Title: Stops and Starts  
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Fem!Romano  
Rating: K+

* * *

It's not that Spain doesn't love Romano, because he does, he loves her more than sunshine and tomatoes and lazy naps on the beach combined, it's just that he's so frustrated (they both are), so tired from the economy and being worked to the bone by his boss and being pulled this way and that way and never getting a spare moment to so much as call his very favourite woman in the whole world. He's frustrated from sleeping in cold, empty beds, frustrated from unanswered phone calls and conversations that barely get started when they have to end because Romano's just as busy as he is, and he knows that, and she knows he knows that, knows he's trying his best to make time for her. Time neither of them have much of lately.

Spain loves Romano, would gladly respond to her shouts of, "You never have time for me anymore," and "Why didn't you fucking call me yesterday when you said you would?" and, "I'm so sick of all of this," with, "I love you," and "I'm sorry," and "I miss you too," on any other day, but his boss is calling again and Romano's yelling about how oh now he can make time for phone calls, just when she's trying to talk to him, and the nice dinner he'd planned for them is remembered just in the moment that it starts burning and the flowers he got Romano have been tossed on the floor and he knows she's not sick of him and he's not sick of her and he doesn't mean it when he says, "We need a break," but he says it nonetheless.

He says it and the only thing that answers him is eerie silence, then the slamming of his front door, and the roar of an engine when Romano drives off on her vespa.

XXX

Romano returns the next day with a knock on the door and a shout of, "Hurry up Spain, these are heavy!"

Spain answers the door, bags under his eyes not keeping his smile from reaching them, to find Romano standing there, tapping her foot, carrying cloth bags filled to the brim with tomatoes and bread and cheese and everything he thinks she'll need to make the lasagne of hers that's always been his favourite.

He takes the bags and Romano steps inside, her lips ghosting over his cheek briefly, so barely there Spain doesn't know if he's imagined it or not. "Your kitchen better be clean, you know I don't like making food in there when it isn't."

"It's clean." And it doesn't smell like burnt rice any longer.

"Good. Did you do my laundry last time I was here? I don't know if I have any clean clothes."

"I'll go make sure, Roma. But you have a lot of clothes here." They take up half his closet, plus a whole guest room closet.

"Well just make sure." After Spain and Romano have both relieved themselves of the grocery bags, Romano's digging through Spain's pantry for her apron, the only plain, solid coloured one that doesn't have stupid phrases written all over or pictures of smiling tomatoes. She notices Spain staring at her as she ties it behind her back, a dopey grin on his face, and she flushes before giving him the finger and nudging him out of the kitchen. "Laundry. Go. I'll call you when the food is ready."

"I love you, Roma."

"And I love you better when you do what I say. Get out of my hair."

"Yes ma'am."

Spain's boss calls yet again but all he does is shut the phone off, because right now he'd rather make the entire population of the world wait for him than miss this lunch with Romano.


	19. Spanish Nights

Title: Spanish Nights  
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Romano  
Rating: T

* * *

Romano will never get used to the way Spain does a night out, but that doesn't mean he won't try. 10 PM finds them out at their first tapas bar of the night, wine in one hand and a food-bearing toothpick in the other. Midnight finds them seated for the first time that night, atop plush cushions near a window that overlooks the city. Spain buys them both fruity cocktail after fruity cocktail, because though they've been to this particular bar before, they keep changing the menu and Spain has always liked to sample everything there is to offer. After a few drinks and some quiet chatter, a stark contrast to his usual boistrous way of conversing with people but nothing at all foreign to Spain, who has had many quiet evenings with him, Romano is a little sleepy and a lot content and would be fine with going home (well, back to Spain's house) and staying in Spain's bed until tomorrow night, but it's 2 am and Spain is dragging him by the wrist, two fliers in his other hand.

"Where are we going now?" Romano asks, swaying just a bit as they make their way down the sidewalk, gliding through the crowd of people coming and going from the various bars and clubs lining the street.

Spain waves the brightly coloured papers in his face. "We're going dancing! Look, we can get in for free."

"Don't you always get in for free?"

"Well." Spain laughs and turns the corner, stopping briefly to look around before making a beeline for a brightly lit building across the street. "We haven't been to this one before, and it takes so long for people to find my name on the list sometimes."

Spains hands the bouncer their fliers and he quickly waves them into the club, but not before giving them each a drink voucher that Romano knows must come with the cover they haven't paid. As if they need more drinks— Spain's cheeks are just as flushed as Romano's and when he tugs them both onto the dance floor, it is entirely without any of the grace he might possess when sober.

Music pulses through the air as Spain's hips brush against Romano's, Spain's clumsy laughter quickly dissolving as the beat picks up and they gradually find the right tempo despite the fuzziness Romano feels flowing through his veins. Romano's glad he wore a t-shirt that night, glad Spain did too, because they are both soon dripping with sweat, Romano can see it on Spain's neck when he leans in so close their chests are moving against one another, can feel it when Spain's hands run through his now messy hair.

Romano slips a hand into Spain's waistband and Spain ghosts his lips against his neck, muttering something Romano can't hear at all over the bass pounding into the floor and walls. Romano doesn't know how many hours they spend that way— hip to hip, chest to chest, bodies swaying together to the music, ignorant of the mass of other bodies that surround them on all sides, but soon enough the sun is peaking through the crack in the door when people start exiting the club, the air lightens as the amount of people lessens, and eventually, the music stops. Spain takes Romano's hand and leads him back through the door they came in, into the soft morning air and out into a world where it is very much easy to tell where Romano's movement begins and Spain's ends.

Spain swings their arms for a moment as they walk down the sidewalk, then moves so he's standing in front of Romano, one hand still firmly holding Romano's and the other snaking down to rest against his waist. "One more dance?" he asks, a tired, yet entirely content, smile on his face.

"There's no music," Romano replies, placing his free hand up on Spain's back, near his shoulder blades.

"We don't need any." Spain steps forward and Romano responds, stepping back to meet the movement. Spain steps to the side, then back again, each move simple, not at all flashy, not so quick that their racing heartbeats can't slow down and return to normal. Their dance is instead slow and lazy, flowing easily excepting when Romano interupts it briefly to rest his head against Spain's neck. It's the perfect end, and the very best constrast, to the quick-paced evening of before.


	20. Manly Tears

Title: Manly Tears  
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Romano

* * *

Romano was a man. A strong man. A manly man. Maybe he couldn't always open jam jars in the morning (but he damn well did loosen them before passing them off to Antonio, because opening jars was boring anyway), and maybe he spent more time in the bathroom than other people thought was normal, and maybe he looked way better in a dress and heels than some women he knew, but he was a fucking beacon of testosterone and nothing he did could ever change that.

"Romano, it's so beautiful," Spain sobbed, running one hand over the first tomato of the season and his other over his leaking eyes. "All our hard work is paying off, look at how strong our babies are growing."

"Stop calling food our babies, you creeper." Romano hiccuped and fuck it all, he was wiping some tears away as well, because he was the manliest mother fucker (yes, he fucked your mom, deal with it) anyone ever did see and he could cry about the beautiful fruit he'd poured his blood, sweat, and tears into for months if he damn well pleased.


	21. Dish Washing Song

Title: Dish Washing Song  
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Fem!Romano

* * *

Lovina is doing the dishes, for once in her life, and Antonio is helping out because really. He's doing the dishes, she's just kind of drying them off and commenting on (criticising) his handywork. But they've got a rhythm down, a steady tune where he washes and she dries, then she comments and he rewashes, but their silence is apparently not enough for Antonio because.

"Doing the dishes, doing the dishes, with my pretty Lovi~"

He was singing.

"Antonio."

"Washing as she dries, gazing at her lovely eyes~"

"Antonio no."

"She says I'm no good, but I know she loves me so~"

"I don't. This song doesn't even rhyme."

"Says she hates me, but I know, oh how my Lovi loves me so~"

"You just rhymed so with so. Antonio."

"Always says she hates my rhymes, but she goes with them just in time~"

"That doesn't even make sense. Give me the fucking dishes and get out."

"She's so sweet, she does the chores, it only makes me love her more~~~"

"NO YOU ARE NOT LEAVING ME ALONE WITH THE DISHES ANTONIO NO."

"I'll never leave her, no I won't. The dishes I'll do, she'll scream if I don't~"

Lovina scowls as Antonio finishes with the last dish and she swiftly takes it into the towl she's using. "I hate you."

"Says she hates me, but I know—"

"No. You're done. Shut up."

Antonio just grins. Lovina knows she's in for more torture later, but she sure is glad he's stopped for now.


	22. Romano Allows Spain to Get Touchy Feely

Title: The One Where Romano Allows Spain to Get all Touchy Feely  
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Romano

* * *

Spain was drunk. Scratch that, Spain had been drunk. Now he was just… fuzzy. The room was spinning, just a bit, or maybe he was the one doing all the insane moving, who knew. He certainly didn't, because every time he tried to open his eyes to check, he was met with a blurry, confusing world that just made him want to puke. His legs were as heavy as giant sea turtles, though, so he didn't think he would be getting up any time soon, whether he felt sick or not.

So he kept his eyes closed, and his body as still as possible despite the rollercoaster the floor apparently was, and he tried not to groan too loudly because even that small noise reverberated in his skull and made him feel like somebody was throwing little ping-pong balls around inside his head.

Had he actually been drunk, he'd have been trying to find where the ping-pong balls were coming from. The fact that he just groaned as quietly as he could possibly manage let him know that he was very much not still under the influence.

Though maybe he still was, just a little, because he swore he felt somebody touching him, but Spain was pretty sure when France and Prussia dropped him off earlier that morning, he'd been alone.

"Spain?" A low, breathy whisper reached his ears and Spain struggled to peek an eye open, just to see if somehow hallucinations had become part of this hellish hangover or if who he thought was there was really there.

He was. "Hi Roma." Spain's eyes finally decided to go into focus just as Romano's frowning face moved into his line of sight and he gave him a sheepish, tired smile. "What brings you by?"

"This." Romano held up his cell phone and Spain squinted at the screen before deciding the tiny light was far too much for him to handle. Romano shoved the thing back into his pocket, thankfully. "Apparently you were "daoing" at 3:30 this morning and wanted to tell me you loved my "refkles"."

"Freckles," Spain replied. "They're really cute, the ones on your nose."

"I don't have—" Spain flinched and Romano lowered his voice. Spain was very grateful for that, and maybe also slightly concerned, because Romano never lowered his voice. "I don't have freckles… let's get you off the damn floor."

"It's a nice floor."

"You smell like a mini-bar. Get up."

Spain shakily pulled himself into a sitting position and Romano grabbed his hands, slowly pulling him up onto his feet. The world spun some more but Spain held tight to Romano's hands and, luckily for both of them, kept his balance. He expected Romano to start scolding him any minute, to tell him off for obviously waking him up or making him worry or whatever it was that had made Romano decided to come over to his house, but none of that ever came. Instead, Romano just helped him up the stairs, made him brush his teeth and change into some clean pajamas, banished his clothes from the night before to the laundry room to be dealt with later, and when all that was said and done, he (gently) shoved Spain into bed.

"Take these." Romano pressed two aspirin tablets into Spain's hand and once they were in his mouth, offered him a glass of water Spain didn't even notice he'd been holding. His throat burned as the cool water slid down his throat and Spain wondered if he'd bothered to drink any of the liquid the night before. Probably not.

"Thanks, Romano."

Romano ignored him and took the water glass, heading into Spain's bathroom with it. A command to, "Lay down," echoed out of the bathroom over the sound of water running from the sink and Spain readily obeyed. The pillow beneath his head was far comfier than the carpet downstairs.

When Romano came back, Spain was nearly back to sleep, but if he hadn't been drunkhungoverdying, he may have woken right back up when Romano slipped into bed next to him and wrapped an arm over his unevenly rising chest. Instead, he just mumbled a sleepy, "You feel nice."

"Damn right I do," was the reply he got, along with a light squeeze that faintly resembled a hug.

"Mhmm."

"Go to sleep."

"I am."

Spain knew by that point that the spinning wasn't real, but the soft humming and the kiss to his cheek he felt right before drifting off were definitely not hallucinations at all.


	23. Accusation

Title: Accusation  
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Romano

* * *

Romano comes home from the gym one day, after two hours of solid working out (not eating smoothies or hanging around in the steam room or checking out bums in the pool, **working out**), and after such a hard day of working out and running errands (Spain had made him go buy his own milk, that jerk) and generally being a very fucking productive person, all he wants to do is sprawl out on the couch and wait for Spain to make dinner.

Apparently Spain has other ideas. "You were gone for awhile, did you have two smoothies again?"

What. "Smoothies?" Romano points at the flaming pink sweatband stretched across his forehead. "I was working out you jackass, look at all the sweat I worked up."

If the sweatband is entirely dry, it's only because he'd turned the heat up in the car on the way home. "I'm sure it got really wet if you kept it on in the steam room, baby."

"Fuck the steam room, I was on the the.. the… the stairmaster! For over an hour!"

"Roma, you know they don't like it when you sit on the equipment to read your magazines, they have chairs in the lobby for a reason."

"I wasn't reading magazines and I didn't eat two smoothies and I worked out!" Romano throws the sweatband at Spain when he starts laughing. "Shut the fuck up, I did!"

"Mm, I can tell. The pink booty shorts are looking extra tight today." Spain, still giggling, reaches under Romano's matching pink wife beater to pinch the soft skin of Romano's tummy between his thumb and forefinger, then kisses Romano's cheek. "Go put those sweaty, sweaty clothes in the wash and I'll order a pizza, okay?"

Romano scowls and stomps upstairs. "I want two pizzas!" Because he needed to replenish his. Working out stores. After all that hard work he'd done. _Obviously._


	24. Denial

Title: Denial  
Pairing/Characters: Spain mostly, some Portugal, mentions of Romano  
Summary: Sixty-eight years after Italian Unification, Spain writes Romano a letter.  
Note: Small sequel to Stay with Me

* * *

_13 May 1929_

_Romano,_

_Sorry I haven't written in awhile! We're having a world's fair at my house right now and it's been crazy preparing everything. You know that, though, we spent how many years preparing for it? It's really crowded here in Seville and you know how my brother and my old colonies and I don't always get along, but it's been nice seeing everyone. Even America came, though you know having dinner with him without you here just isn't the same. The buildings he built are pretty cool, but I'm sure you don't care much about what everyone's exhibits are._

_I wish you could see them, though, it'd be nice to share them with you._

_Sorry this can't be longer, there's still a month or so of this ahead of me, but I'll write you again later!_

_Love, _

_Spain_

Spain wanted to write more, wanted to describe all the exhibits in detail, wanted to tell Romano how much he missed him and how he wished he could come back home, but Portugal was knocking at his door and he could hear a phone ringing somewhere in the house and he had plans to meet with his boss in about an hour, so he left the letter at that.

Just as he always did when he wrote to Romano, Spain carefully folded the sturdy stationary he'd written upon, stuffed it inside a matching envelope, careful not to wrinkle the edges (Romano always hated when he wrinkled his letters), and sealed it with a bit of wax, just like he had for hundreds of years. With a precision he hardly ever used, not even for important paperwork, he wrote Romano's name on the front of the envelope, frowning when the O developed a small ink blot.

He hoped Romano wouldn't mind.

He didn't like to think about the fact that Romano was beyond minding.

Instead of mailing the letter, he pulled out a wooden box from under his bed. More letters were revealed when he took the top off— some sealed just as this one, some torn, some tear-stained, but all there nonetheless— and he placed the newest on top of his small collection.

"Spain, are you in there?"

He quickly closed the box and returned it to its place under his bed before rising. "Ah, yes, Portugal, I'll be out in a minute, just writing to Romano."

Portugal didn't say anything. Nobody ever said anything. Romano would have, but Spain didn't like to think about the things Romano would do, because that lead to thoughts about all the things Romano couldn't do, wouldn't ever be able to do.

He made a mental note to visit Romano later. Maybe he'd bring a letter this time, maybe he'd read it, instead of just changing out the flowers like he always did.


	25. Wind

Title: Wind  
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Romano  
Summary: Spain hates working during the hottest time of day, but some things make it all worth it.

* * *

Spain hates working in the hot sun a midsummer day always brings, but Spain also hates not having fresh tomatoes for when Romano is feeling in a good enough mood to make him pasta and homemade tomato sauce for lunch, so Spain puts on a wide-brimmed hat, grabs his favourite basket, and goes outside to gather up a few ripe tomatoes for their meal.

The sun beats down on him as he passes through the fields, trying to find the very best tomatoes for Romano. If the tomatoes he picks are too ripe or not ripe enough or bruise in any way, shape, or form, Romano won't want them. Spain wants Romano to want them, though, wants him to want them on his first try, or else Spain is going to have to go out into the fields again and Spain would much rather sit in his living room and eat until it was time to sleep.

Forty-five minutes and a few of the best tomatoes he's ever seen in, Spain feels a soft, very concentrated breeze on the back of his neck, and he almost thinks it's just the wind, but then he realises the wind doesn't only blow on him without rustling the tomato plants, he turns around to find Romano holding up a small handfan. "I told you to pick some tomatoes," Romano says, shift the fan to blow on Spain's sweating face. "Not inspect every damn plant in your field."

Spain grins at Romano and wipes some of the sweat from his brow, thankful for the artificial breeze blowing through his bangs. "I wanted to make sure I got the best ones!"

Romano looks over the row of plants they're standing by and swiftly picks a couple tomatoes with the hand not holding the fan. He tosses them into the basket, and then another two, and then another, and soon the basket is filled with more than enough tomatoes for the sauce he's going to make.

"The tomatoes in your dumb field are fine enough to be feeding you, Spain."

It's an insult, sort of, maybe. Kind of. But Spain doesn't hear any complaints about the tomatoes, not the ones he picked or the ones Romano carelessly tossed into the basket, and he only hears a few minor (yet still pretty loud) complaints about his technique when Spain makes some bread to go along with their pasta, so Spain considers it all an afternoon well spent.


	26. Order

Title: Order  
Pairing/Characters: Fem!Spain/Romano  
Summary: Romano is motherfucking saint and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

* * *

Romano was a stud in bed. Anyone could tell you that. Most of them didn't actually know first-hand that he was a stud, but it was something you could tell just by looking at him. His aura screamed "is great in bed" or something. Sometimes Spain screamed he was great in bed too, just in case there was anyone around who was blind or not good at reading auras or something. Romano didn't even try to understand the woman he'd found himself stuck with for what would probably be all eternity. He understood that was great in bed, and she understood that too, and really, that was a good enough basis for everything.

Sometimes Spain liked to ask him to try different things in bed. Sometimes Romano told her to fuck off and be happy with all the great, wonderful, amazing, fan-fucking-tastic sex he was already giving her, and then he'd throw her against the kitchen counter or greenroom floor or Germany's freshly washed car and show her just how good he was without all her silly ideas.

Other times, he was totally down for some of those silly ideas.

Though on a few of those occasions, he rather wished he hadn't been so willing to do what Spain wanted. Every now and then he forgot that Spain was fucking nuts.

"Oh Romanito, you're so beautiful. I can't even handle all this beauty right now."

"Spain take the handcuffs off."

Spain looked up through heavily lidded eyes from between Romano's legs and he was temporarily distracted by her pretty flushed cheeks and the way her eyes were currently the deepest, darkest shade of green he'd seen them be in awhile, but then Spain spoke and he snapped out of any silly (look what Spain was doing to him, damn her) thoughts of just staying there and staring into her eyes for awhile. "You know what to say if you really want them off, Roma. Do you really want them off?"

Romano glanced over at his wrists. Then down to Spain. Then sort of at his penis, who Spain had so creatively dubbed "Romanito". Spain seemed to take this as him deciding he wanted her depravity to continue and she shifted back down so she was face to face with his "adorable red and grumpy" dick.

"You're so sweet, you know."

"I don't get you at all."

"Shhh, Roma. We're having a moment and then me and you can talk too!"

"Spain, can't we just—"

"Romano," Spain said sternly, reaching up to whack his arm and scratching him with her long red nails in the process. "I said shh, do what you're told."

"…"

"Good boy. You'll get your turn. So, as I was saying…!"

Romano leaned back into his headboard as best he could, eyeing the angry red nail marks on his arm and hoping Spain would get a better insane idea next time.


	27. Sunset

Title: Sunset  
Pairing/Characters: Fem!Spain/Fem!Romano  
Summary: Antonia hates night classes, but she definitely doesn't hate a certain person in those classes.

* * *

Antonia hates night classes. She avoids them whenever possible, but every now and then a class she absolutely has to take is only available in the evening and she has to suck it up and register anyway. She's used to being out late, that's not the problem, or rather it is the problem, because she'd much rather be out having dinner with her friends or dancing or even just staying in with a nice glass of wine than sitting in a stuffy classroom. This one has windows, huge panes of glass all along one wall, and she can see out into the street, watch as the sun fades into the horizon and cars rush by. Other students walk by, done with their classes just as she's starting hers, and she wants to be out there in her favourite dress too, laughing and having a good time.

But she's here.

In class.

For the next two hours.

Lovina doesn't mind night classes, not so much. She prefers afternoon classes, but she'd rather suck it up and go to class when she'd normally be eating dinner than have to get up for one of those ungoldly 8 am lectures. It gives her an excuse when her sister begs her to come out with her and her dumb boyfriend, and Felicia can't even cry or complain or say Lovina's being mean because Lovina's not just avoiding her, she has to go to class. Besides, it's not even that late, if she wants to do something after, she can. If she wants to go home and eat pizza and then pass out on Antonia's shoulder while watching stupid movies, she can do that too, because her favourite pizza place is nowhere near closing when class gets out. If Felicia calls she can say she's just too tired after class and if Gilbert or Alfred call it's still early enough to go get drinks (or shitty fake-Italian food, if it was Alfred).

Besides, even if she didn't like night classes, the fact that Antonia got so unnaturally cranky about them definitely would have made up for that fact.

"We're out in ten minutes, stupid, stop sighing and looking out the window," she whispers, poking Antonia in the side with a pen.

Antonia pouts at her, but she does look away from the window. "But I'm bored."

"Tough shit."

"And I'm hungry."

"We can go eat in a few minutes, chill your tits."

Antonia keeps sulking and her gaze once again shifts to the window, where the last dying rays of sunshine are streaming in onto the tiled floor, their dim red and orange tickling the cream of the room for only a few more seconds before they fade entirely. It's a little later than the sun normally sets, which helps really, because if the sun is still around when class starts Antonia doesn't get so restless.

And if the sun is still around when class starts, that means Antonia gets to watch the sunset with Lovina, and no matter how much Lovina rolls her eyes and says nothing is romantic about sitting in a class Antonia complains through, Antonia thinks it is, just a tiny bit.

The second the teacher dismisses them, Antonia is up and out of her seat as fast as she can be, and her bag is already packed up, has been for about twenty minutes, so all she has to do is wait for Lovina to be ready to go and then the night can really begin.

"I don't know why you keep taking these things if all you're going to do is bitch about it the whole time." Lovina slips her bag over her should and grabs Antonia by the wrist, dragging her out of the room.

Antonia just shrugs and smiles, because they both know why she continues to torture herself like this.


	28. Summer

Title: Summer  
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Romano  
Summary: Romano doesn't appreciate your cheek, Spain. Not at all.

* * *

Romano hadn't seen Spain get dressed before they went to the beach, and he was very much regreting that fact the minute he saw Spain remove his shorts to reveal a very tight, very tacky bright yellow and fucking tomato-print speedo.

A fucking speedo.

He tossed a towel at Spain and groaned. "Do you have to wear that ugly thing?"

"No," Spain said, laughing and making like he was going to remove the hideous swimwear.

Romano was having none of that bullshit. "This isn't a nude beach! Keep them on, you fucking weirdo."

"But you said you don't want me to wear them."

"Because they're ugly and tacky and indecent."

Spain looked at Romano.

Romano looked at Spain.

Spain looked at Romano's bright pink, skin tight boxer style swimtrunks and raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, baby. We can't all have taste like you."

Romano threw their second towel at Spain and stomped off toward the water. "We're buying you new ones when we get home!"

Spain laughed and followed him after setting their towels out properly, double checking to make sure all their valuables had been left in the car. "Okay, but I'm not wearing pink ones."


	29. Winter

Title: Winter  
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Romano  
Summary: Spain is the very worse blanket hog ever.

* * *

Romano awoke to the chill of a cold December morning and the shifting movements of a certain blanket stealer against his side. Only then did he realise that maybe sleeping naked on that particular night may have been a bad idea, but it was clearly a worse idea to put on the ugly as hell Christmas pyjamas Spain had insisted on him wearing the night before, so he'd live. He'd live either way, because it wasn't nearly cold enough to freeze to death for even a little bit, but that was beside the point.

"Bitch, stop stealing all the blankets." Spain just grumbled in response and wrapped the blankets tighter around himself. He continued to struggle when Romano tried to grab the blankets and pull at least one toward himself, but Romano wasn't giving up. Spain kept the spare blankets in a closet that was all the way down the hall and if he didn't want to share that was too fucking bad.

"Give me the damn blankets." He continued to tug and Spain continued to resist, though Romano had no idea how he was doing so if he was actually still asleep. After their struggle had gone on for a few minutes, Romano finally got a firm grasp on the corner of one of the blankets and pulled hard. He cried out in victory when the blanket rolled off Spain and into his hands.

Spain cried out in surprise when he rolled onto the freezing wooden floor beneath them.


	30. Double the Show

Title: Double the Show  
Pairing/Characters: Fem!Spain/Fem!Romano  
Rating: T  
Note: For fefjade on tumblr because she is fab and there is NOT ENOUGH FEMSPAMANO IN THE WORLD. seriously guys everyone go write/draw some I love it so.

* * *

The movie theatre is packed by the time Lovina and Antonia make their way inside, which makes Antonia whine (loudly, far too loudly, since they're being shushed despite the fact that the previews haven't even started yet) because she really, really wanted to sit in the back and there aren't a pair of seats left up there.

"It's your own damn fault," Lovina hisses. She spots a few seats near the middle of the theatre, next to a large group of girls whispering excitedly to one another, and she grabs Antonia's arm and pulls her over.

"I'm not the one who couldn't decide what candy she wanted," Antonia responds, flopping down into one of the seats and shoving her purse and said candy into the one next to her. Lovina's glad she no longer has to ask Antonia to be a rude asshole who takes extra seats just so they don't have to sit by anybody else. Really and truly glad.

"You are the one who chatted for fifteen damn minutes to the popcorn girl, though."

"I went to school with her!" Antonia is shushed again, but she ignores it. "I haven't seen her in forever."

"You'd do that even if you didn't know her."

Antonia just shrugs. "I like talking to people." She holds the popcorn under Lovina's nose, waving it back and forth temptingly. "It's got extra butter," she sing-songs.

"That shit is disgusting." Lovina takes a handful nonetheless, because Antonia won't leave her alone until she does. "Where'd you put my damn Jujubes?"

"Language," a girl behind them says, nudging at the back of Lovina's seat.

"Is something we're all using right now, great fucking observation."

The girl mutters something as Antonia laughs and passes Lovina a bright green box of candy. "Charming as ever, baby."

"Damn right I am. Now shut your mouth, the movie is starting."

The lights dim and Lovina has to shove Antonia's arm off her shoulders three times before Antonia finally gives up.

And puts it on her thigh instead.

"In a movie theatre, Antonia," she whispers, barely audible over the preview music pounding through the theatre.

Antonia doesn't respond, doesn't do anything actually, so Lovina lets her keep her hand there, just because she's feeling generous and there's no point in getting kicked out of the theatre for shouting if Antonia's actually going to behave herself.

The movie finally starts and the soft hum of conversation surrounding the previews finally stops as the opening credits roll. Lovina munches on her candies, putting her hand over the box when Antonia tries to steal a few and shoving away the popcorn that keeps getting shoved in her face.

A loud boom echoes through the theatre and Lovina jumps along with everyone else, though the yelp she lets out is for an entirely different reason.

"Antonia."

"Yes?" Antonia looks at her, wide-eyed and innocent, and it'd be a very convincing act if her hand wasn't currently up Lovina's skirt.

Lovina leans in, really close, close enough to almost taste the salty, buttery concoction on Antonia's lips and whispers, "Make it quick or I am going to kill you."

Luckily for Lovina, the movie is far louder than she could ever be, and it's actually not half bad so everyone is paying attention to the screen in front of them. She shifts in her seat and Antonia whines a little about the angle, saying it's harder that way, but Lovina doesn't give a shit.

Despite the whining and complaining, Antonia manages to sneak her fingers inside Lovina's panties, and (fucking sneaky thing that she is) she gets Lovina to spread her legs just a bit as those fingers work their magic.

Lovina sighs, just a bit, and tries not to look at Antonia's no doubt pleased-with-herself face. Soon enough her stomach is knotting up, not with nervousness or annoyance but with an entirely different (yet no less familiar feeling), her toes are curling in heels, and since Antonia's fingers aren't backing off in the slightest, she bites her lip, slumps in the seat a little, and spills the rest of her Jujubes all over herself in a moment of temporary clumsiness.

Antonia giggles while Lovina tries to catch her breath and pick the candies up out of her lap at the same time. "I'm really enjoying this movie Lovi, are you?"

Lovina scowls and snatches the popcorn from under Antonia's stupid smug face.


	31. That One Time on a Ferris Wheel

Title: That One Time on a Ferris Wheel  
Pairing/Characters: Fem!Spain/Romano, a surprise guest appearance by a mystery character! :O  
Rating: T  
Note: I thought I put this up already but apparently I did not. Don't question Spain she does what she wants.

* * *

Romano didn't understand why Spain and her citizens thought it was worth waiting in line for half an hour just to sit on a stupid spinning wheel, but Romano was the one standing with Spain while she waited excitedly for their turn nonetheless. The sun was just starting to sink low in the sky, creating strange, twisting shadows as the large wheel in front of them spun around and around, and Romano found himself watching the forms they took until he was so rudely shoved forward into a seat by an overly enthusiastic Spain.

"Oh, I just love the view from the top, Roma, you'll really love it too."

"It better be nice, we waited long enough."

"That was a really short wait! One time me and France came here and we had to wait for over an hour! It's really popular, you'll see why."

Romano hummed and looked out over the edge as the wheel slowly spun around to load the rest of the passengers. Spain chattered on, slipping an arm around his waist and snuggling close to his side as they continued to ascend.

The car they were in rocked gently when Spain shifted even closer, right when they were nearly to the very top of the wheel, but Romano hardly noticed as he looked out at the city below them. Rows and rows of buildings were laid out in front of them, leading all the way to the sea, some darkened by the sinking sun and their lack of lights, others starting to glimmer in the dim light.

"I guess it's o_kay_, Spain what are you doing?!"

Spain looked up from where her head was (no doubt uncomfortably, but Romano didn't give about that right then) on his thigh. She had somehow managed to get his fly unzipped while he'd been temporarily distracted, and Romano realised delayedly that she'd just been murmuring an affectionate, "Are you enjoying the ride too?" before he'd interrupted her. "Just making sure Romanito isn't bored! You know how he is."

"How he— this is not the place Spain, knock it off."

"Well it's not like they'll kick us out of the park. I've been going here since before the workers were even born." Spain waved a hand dismissively and planted a kiss on the bit of pink fabric sticking out from Romano's open jeans. "Besides, we're just having a chat! I was telling him we can get more cosy later. He's being very patient today, I'm surprised."

"Stop it."

"But he loves our chats. You know he does."

"He does no— I do not. Spain."

Spain pouted at him and he tried to avoid her by looking out at the view again, but they were nearly to the bottom of the rotation once more. He shoved her hands away and zipped up his pants before they reached the bottom and had to exit the ride.

"Stop making that face at me."

"But you're being so mean to me. I don't know what I did!"

"You know very well."

More pouting.

"Ugh."

Spain's eyes watered a little and she gazed longingly at the now covered spot between his legs.

"Ten minutes, in the apartment. No more than that."

Spain immediately lost her sad look and clapped her hands together before giving Romano a kiss on the nose. "You're the best, Roma!"

"Damn right I am. Now get off me, we have to get off." He paused. "The wheel, get off the wheel."

"Mhmm." Spain patted his crotch as they stepped out of the car and Romano tried to ignore the look the attendant was giving them. "We'll get to chat soon, baby, just you wait."


	32. Classy Lady

Title: C is for Classy Lady  
Pairing/Characters: Fem!Spain/Romano  
Rating: K+  
Note: Part of the Alphabet Drabble Meme.

* * *

Antonia took her job as a bartender seriously. Very, very seriously. She wasn't a waitress. She wasn't a "bar maid". She was a master of her trade, knew intuitively how to mix her drinks the way a surgeon knew just where to cut or an artist knew where to put the next stroke of paint. She could chat with a person for only a few moments and instantly know what sort of drink they might order, was the best at making up things on the fly or fulfilling vague requests for "something fun" or "oh, anything fruity".

She knew all her regulars as well as she knew her own family (her sister was a port person, her mother was more into a glass of red wine at the end of a long day), so when the crowd died down after happy hour ended at 6, she started mixing up a concoction of prosecco, limoncello, and fresh elderberries. By the time a certain (very wet, as it had apparently been raining) grumbling, well dressed man came walking through the door, the drink was already waiting for him at his barstool.

"Hey Lovino," she said as soon as he'd taken his first sip.

"I'm going to need more of these," was as good as a hello in Antonia's eyes. Mostly because it meant Lovino would be sticking around for awhile.

"Of course. Rough day at work?"

"Rough life at work," he muttered. "People are morons."

"Mm." Antonia knew all about the morons. She was a very good listener. "People should listen to you more, eh Lovi?"

"Damn right they should."

Antonia hummed and mixed him up another drink before moving down the bar to take care of a couple of girls chatting quietly. She was not surprised at all by the vodka and cranberry requests from the two, nor by the snort that came from Lovino when they placed their orders.

"You need to stop being all judgemental about the other patrons here, you know." She stole a stray elderberry floating at the top of his drink and grinned when he slapped her hand away. "I see all the funny looks the guys give you when you're downing all your fruity little drinks."

"I can't help it I'm so fucking classy and they're not."

Lovino reached across the bar, where Antonia still had the bottle of limoncello sitting out. If it were anyone else she'd be having all sorts of problems with this, but because it was Lovino she didn't even bat an eye as he poured himself a shot. A stray, "Wish I could do that," from one of the girls was the only sign his actions were at all unusual.

She liked to think of it as just another way she was so, so very good at her job. Letting her regulars have special perks like extra pours and free plate of fries from the kitchen. Things like that kept them coming back, made them bring all their friends along so they too could enjoy Antonia's magical mixology and hospitality.

"She's totally fucking him," the other girl whispered with a giggle after Antonia planted a kiss on Lovino's quickly flushing face.

If Lovino happened to enjoy a few more perks than anyone else who happened to frequent the bar, neither he nor Antonia saw any problem with this.


	33. Secretaries

Pairing/Characters: Fem!Spain/Fem!Romano  
Rating: T  
Note: It seems I missed posting this one, but it was written awhile ago :)

* * *

Lovina tapped her heels against the floor beneath her desk, staring boredly at the unringing phone in front of her. Her boss was on vacation and for some reason he'd thought she should stay in the office to monitor any calls he may get while away and let all his clients know he'd be in contact with them as soon as he got back. Lovina would have preferred to also be on vacation, but he insisted, and if she didn't show up to work on days she was scheduled, she just wasn't going to get paid, and Lovina very much liked getting paid.

That being said, her boss hadn't thought ahead and realised that oh, maybe he'd informed anyone who might be calling of his vacation and Lovina was going to spend the week sitting at her desk doing absolutely nothing, minus a few stray things the other secretaries and office workers asked her to help with.

When her phone did ring at 12:34 pm, for the first time since she'd gone in at 9:00 am, she wasn't expecting it at all and may have jumped slightly.

She looked at the number and, seeing that it was an internal call and not likely to be some client she had to be semi-decent too, mumbled a bored, "Lovina speaking. What do you want?"

"Lovi, hi!"

Lovina looked across the hall, through the obnoxious glass-panel walls that made up the entrance to their section of the office, her gaze landing on another secretary clad in a bright red skirt and a freshly pressed white shirt Lovina was pretty sure didn't belong to her. "Antonia, I'm working."

"No you're not," Antonia countered. "You're glaring at your phone, so I thought I'd call you and make you less mad at it."

Lovina rested the reciever of the phone against her shoulder and started tapping away at her keyboard, replying to an email from her sister while she talked. "I think I'm even more mad at it now and it's all your fault."

"So mean." Lovina could hear the pout in Antonia's voice, and then she could hear somebody else speaking to her and she tuned out the sounds of Antonia conversing through the phone.

_Felicia,_

_No, I am not going to spend the night at your house tonight because you think there's a monster in the walls. You probably have fucking mice again, go call somebody about it and leave me alo_

"Lovi? Lovina!"

"_What_?!" Lovina screeched, stopping midsentence in her email reply. "Antonia, I'm busy."

"You're really not." Lovina groaned and glanced over at Antonia, noticing a huge stack of files was now perched atop her desk. "I am though, come help? Then we can go get lunch together!"

Lovina sighed and finished typing out her reply, then muttered a, "Sure," before hanging up and making her way across the hall to Antonia's office.

She heard the phone ring as she was opening the door, but she just ignored it. The answering machine was far better at taking down messages anyway.


End file.
